


Waving through a window

by XeniaMisable



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, Bad Parenting, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28959174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XeniaMisable/pseuds/XeniaMisable
Summary: Connor Murphy was ready to end... Everything. The 17-year-old boy was fed up with everyone hating him, even his family. He was fed up with not being able to control himself, that he was always messing everything up. He planned to end his life (it was not the first time), but then he met Evan Hansen."We don't have to pretend." - These three words were enough to make Connor want to live. After all, life with friends is much better, isn't it? But the question arises: what happens when a relationship becomes stronger than friendship?(English is not my native language, sorry for the mistakes.)
Relationships: Evan Hansen & Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. Prologue

Weird. Strange. Useless. Idiot. Fool. Unliveable.

What's the point? What's the point of living if everyone thinks that? What's the point of living when my own mother runs away from me to work? What's the point of living when my own father left me when I was a kid because he couldn't live with me? What's the point of living if I don't have friends? What's the point of living when I'm lonely? What's the point of living when everyone's laughing at me, even at school? What's the point of living if I don't dare speak in front of people? What's the point of living when I'm useless?

What's the point of living when I can die instead?

It's just one step. That's how much I was desied to be redeemed. I was one step away from leaving this life behind, to stop being a disappointment. I was only a few centimeters away from redemption, a better life, happiness. It's just one step. That's all it took for mom to finally get rid of me so she could start living her own life.

I looked down into the depths. I must have been about twelve meters up. I was standing on top of a twelve-foot oak tree. I'm not saying it was easy for me to get up there, but I couldn't think of anything else. I just wanted it to be over. All I wanted was peace and quiet. Silence. A place where I'm worth something, where I'm not a disappointment to anyone. A place where I can be myself without being bullied.

But still, as I stood up there, my mother's face appeared before my eyes. She smiled at me happily, even proudly. She was always nice to me when she was at home - but he was never at home, she worked all the time. Would she miss me or live her life without me? Maybe I should stay here for her?

 _Crack_.

The thinner branch of the tree on which I stood began to gave up. _It's a crack. Twelve-metre fall_. Would that be enough, or is it too low, and I'd survive? Maybe I should climb another tree, a much higher one, and jump from there. Maybe then I could do it, maybe then I could leave the world, maybe then I wouldn't be a disappointment.

_Crack._

My stomach twitched. The branch gave up and broke off. The wind was whizzing, the birds were silent, all I could hear was my own intense breathing. I reached after a branch with one hand , and I managed to keep myself. I hung out there for a few minutes, and then I gave up. I've decided enough of life and misery. No one needs me anyway, so... I let go of the branch.

I fell. I landed with a loud thud, and then I just lay there, with terrible pain in my arms.

Then it all went dark.


	2. 1st: Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of senior year, and Connor just wants do be alone. But then, he meets Evan, and everything starts to be... interesting.

"It's your senior year, Connor. You are not missing the first day" I looked up tiredly at the face of Cynthia, whose eyes were almost exactly the same color as mine. Of course, there was nothing surprising about that, because she was my mother and I was her son, but on some level, it bothered me. A lot.

"I already said I'd go tomorrow," I sighed nervously, and continued with hope: "I'm trying to find a compromise here."

"Are you going to get involved here, or are you too busy with your e-mails, Larry?" Cynthia turned to her husband, who was my father, by the way. At least biologically. Emotionally, I didn't really see it that way.

"What do you want me to say?" Larry asked without looking up from his phone. I'm sure he had something very important to do over breakfast, some kind of urgent matter that left him unable to deal with his family for two minutes. "He doesn't listen. He's probably high."

I slammed my head down to the table, my dark, shoulder-length hair covered my face. Here we go again. _He's probably high._ That's what everyone says, that's what everyone's thinking. Okay, I'm not saying they're wrong, because I'm usually high, but if you live in a screwed-up family like me, you don't have to be surprised at all.

"He's definetly high," muttered my sister Zoe, from the other side of the table. I looked up angrily, trying to control my emotions, counting in myself until I calmed down so I wouldn't do anything rash. Needless to say, I couldn't.

"Fuck you!" I snapped. Cynthia jumped, but my sister was not bothered, she was used to me. Of course, it's not like I'm so scary.

"Fuck you!" she cried, rather nervously and forcefully, for a girl.

"I do not need you to picking on your brother right now," said Cynthia, who, as always, was trying to prevent things from escalating. And as always, she didn't succeed. "And besides, he's not high." she added naively, to which I snorted, having fun with myself. "I don't want you to go to school high Connor. We've talked about this." Cynthia looked at me reproachfully, flashing her blue eyes.

"It's perfect." I jumped up cheerfully compared to the situation. "So then I won't go. Thanks, mom!"

I left them on my cue and headed toward my room. I heard Zoe accuse me of drinking the milk- I'm not _so high_ to drink milk with my lactose-sensitivity - but I didn't care. I fell on my bed. I was just lying there, my eyes moving from the ceiling to the door that Larry took off a few weeks ago, the my last... after my incident.

"If Connor's not ready, I'm leaving without him." I heard Zoe's voice again, causing me to sigh nervously.

Of course, I'm the only one who's that unlucky to have their sister drive them to school. I didn't do anything, I just wanted to end it. I had had enough, so I accidentally accelerated on the freeway and then accidentally crashed into a tree. Needless to say, the car was completely damaged, but unfortunately, I'm fine. I should have driven faster...

"Connor!" Cynthia shouted, and I realized that there was no point in arguing, and I got up, grumbling to myself, and walked down the stairs.

I wasn't surprised to see no trace of Larry. Only my mother and sister were in the kitchen. When I got down the stairs, they were hugging each other, so I quickly snuck out the door, hoping they wouldn't notice me— I didn't feel like hugging or pretending that nothing had happened.

So, welcome to the Murphy household. If your name is Zoey, and you're an annoying 16-year-old, congratulations, everything's perfect! But if your name is Connor, you're in the wrong place, because you're not going to get any help here for your bipolar disorder, your anxiety, or the fact that you can't sit still because of ADHD. In fact, you're not going to get any help at all, just a bunch of pills you forget to take, because they don't work anyway, and it's just going to make you nauseous. Oh, and forget about the therapist!

So, everything's wonderful.

*******

Turns out there was no point going to school. I mean, they laughed at me every class when they saw me, scribbled on my locker, and I even had to introduce myself to the new teacher. I didn't want to have a conversation in the middle the day, let alone in front of the entire class that I hated and who hated me.

And then it turns out that today could easily get worse. All I wanted to do was walk down the hall, but then I could hear the annoying voice that was shouting my name.

"Hey, Connor!" It was Jared Kleinman, one of my classmates, who we didn't have the best relationship with. Cut it short and simple, we hated each other. And (exceptionally) I wasn't the only one to blame for that, because I never commented on it, he was the one picking on me.

I turned around irritated. Contrary to what was expected, Kleinman was not alone. Next to the guy with the glasses, there was another blond-haired, blue-eyed, short boy, nervously poking his cast on his left hand. I wasn't sure, but maybe his name was Evan... I think we even had a class together, even though I've never heard him speak in my life.

"I'm loving the new hair length, it's very shooting-chic," laguhed Jared sarcastically, but he was avoiding my gaze.

I froze and stared furiously at my classmate. _I can't believe I can't walk down the hall without someone calling me out._ I get that they hate me, but I can't believe that they have to be picking me, even when I didn't do anything. I'm just sick of everything and everyone. Plus, you have to compare it to a shooter? Don't we live in enough fucked-up worlds?

"It was a joke." Kleinman finally muttered, when, after a minute, I didn't say anything but stare, eyes sparking with anger. "It was a joke," he repeated louder, visibly feeling uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I know, it was funny. I'm laughing, can't you tell?" I asked dryly when I finally found my own voice. I tried to stay calm, but I couldn't this time either. "Am I not laughing hard enough for you?"

"You're such a freak" Kleinman waved, resigned, then turned around and stormed down the hall, straight into one of the classrooms.

His words re echoed in my head. Freak. He's right, he's right. I'm useless, I'm just disappointing everyone, there's no point in me even living. Let's face it, in the past seventeen, almost eighteen years, I have done nothing that would have made me proud of myself.

I heard a quiet laugh. I looked up. Evan was still standing there, blinking nervously, crumpling his shirt as he laughed. He laughed at me, and he didn't even try to hide it.

"What the fuck are you laughing at? I snapped nervously.

"What?" he said, his eyes reflected in fear.

"Stop fucking laughing at me!"I raised my voice even more, and my hand was clenched in a fist, and my nails were in my palms.

"But I don't..."

"You think I'm a freak? You're the fucking freak!" I shouted, and pushed the boy who fell to the ground, and instead of apologizing, I snuck away so he wouldn't see my tears in my eyes.

I just had enough of everything and everyone.

*******

I carefully opened the printer lab door in an attempt to make as little noise as possible. I didn't want anyone to notice me, but I had to take a copy of something, so I had to go into the tiny room.

At first, I thought there was no one here. Okay, I didn't even look around, I just rushed to the printer, but there was already a piece of paper with the words _Dear Evan Hansen_ on top. I didn't want to be rude, so I didn't read it, I just looked at it, and looked around the room.

I immediately saw the paper's owner, the blond guy I knocked over in the hallway. He was standing by the window, and he was putting his phone in his pocket when I decided to let him know I was here. I picked up the paper with his name on it, and then I took a step toward him. I took a deep breath, gathering courage and strength to speak.

"So...," I grinded my throat nervously, and Evan turned around and stared at me with his eyes wide open. I didn't blame him. An hour ago, I yelled at him, and pushed him, and now I'm talking to him normally. "What happened to your arm?" I inquired, and I pöked my head towards the cast.

"I fell out of a tree, actually," he muttered, but so softly that I could barely hear his words. But when I realized what he was saying, I unwittingly laughed at myself.

"You fell out of a tree? "I snorted. He nodded. "That is just the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard," I added, softer and considerably kinder.

"I know," smiled Evan gently as he shrugged his shoulders. That's when I noticed something I didn't even notice.

"No one signed your cast," I said kindly, and a memory immediately crawled in front of my eyes.

I was fourteen when I jumped... I fell out of my room window. Since we have a big house, I fell a lot, which naturally caused me to break my left hand. It was a total pain in the ass for the next weeks, as I couldn't write or send a text normally. The thing that hurt me the most was that no one signed my cast, not even my own sister, even though I asked her to. I asked her to, and Zoe laughed at me, and then she sent me away, and she yelled at me to leave her alone.

"I'll sign it," I said cautiously, then, ignoring his objections, continued, "Do you have a sharpie?"

He had one, so he put it in my hand. I reached for his begrated arm, and then, miserably, I positioned myself in such a way that I could sign his arm with my left hand. After that, I blinked thoughtfully for a few seconds because I didn't really have any idea where to write my name. Finally, I shrugged my shoulders, and then, on all the same grounds, I turned a C on the cast, which was too big. As a result, I was forced to continue proportionately, and soon my name was adorned on the white material in huge black letters. Connor.

"Now we can both pretend that we have friends," I shrugged loosely, then gave him the pen back. Evan nodded and walked out of the room, but I stopped him, stretching the paper he had found earlier. "Is this for yours? I found it on the printer. Dear Evan Hansen... That's your name, right?"

"No, no, no. It's just a stupid paper that I had to..." Evan reached for the paper, but something caught my attention, so I pulled my hand back. _"Because there's Zoe"_ it said on the form. Paranoia immediately appeared in me, and I clenched my left fist by my side.

"Is this about my sister?" I asked in a trembling voice.

"Not at all," protested Evan immediately, holding his hand after the paper. I pulled it away from him, raised it high so he wouldn't reach it.

"You wrote it because you knew that I would find it," I accused him, and again I was not interested in his objections, and I continued with determination and increasing nervousness. "You saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab, so you wrote this and printed it out so that I'd find it.

"Why would I do that?" Evan was confused, as if he didn't know anything.

"So I could read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister, and freak out, right? And then you could tell everyone that I'm crazym right?! "now I was shouting, which caused Evan to pull himself smaller, after he took a step back.

"I just need it for my therapy." this single sentence erupted, and then it became paleer, and his breathing became more nervous and superficial.

I immediately recognized the signs of a panic attack. Actually, it wasn't hard, because I had similar problems a long time ago, and sometimes even now. I quickly knelt next to Evan, who had curled up on the floor. I leaned gently closer to him, but I was careful not to touch him because I was afraid he would react much worse.

"Shit, Evan, I'm sorry. Listen to me, let's breathe together, okay? "I tried to speak as kindly as possible, in a soft, soothing voice, which was a little strange to me. Honestly, I couldn't remember the last time I spoke nicely to someone. "In for four, hold for seven, and out for eight, okay?"

Evan nodded, and tried to do as I asked him to do, but he did not succeed. I think he was too nervous to calm down, so I had to resort to a different method, hoping he'd work out what never worked for me, no matter how much Cynthia pushed him.

"Okay, then... Tell me four things you see. " I bit my lips and watched with interest what was happening. Needless to say, I was getting close to a panic attack, my lungs were starting to get a little clenched. So I tried to calm myself down, because I didn't need to be in the same condition as the blond boy.

"The floor... the wall... My hand... your eyes" mumbled Evan, and his gaze finally met mine as he began to return to himself.

"Very good," I nodded encouragingly. "Now three things that you can smell," I continued, as kindly as I could.

"Antiseptic... Perfume... Dust. " When I heard Evan's words, I almost laughed. Back in the days, when we were little, Zoe and I used to have a fight because she said dust didn't smell. I usually argued with her for hours and insisted I was right, and my sister did the same. But it's been a while, we don't have the relationship we had then. These days, we can't stay together for five minutes without a fight.

"You're good," I praised the boy much shorter than me, who seemed more and more relaxed. I didn't want to take any chances, so I decided to end the sedation technique so he wouldn't panic again. "Two things you hear."

"My breath and your voice," replied Evan, now in complete peace. "Thank you," he said quickly, before I could say the last sentence.

I shrugged my shoulders, signaling to him that he was welcome. Then I stood up from the floor and handed him the printed letter bearing my sister's name. I was still interested in why and what he wrote about it, but I decided not to push it. I picked up my bag and headed for the door, but Evan's voice stopped me.

"We don't have to pretend," he said softly, but clearly.

"I don't know what you're talking about" I turned back, confused.

"We c-can be... f-friends," muttered the blond-haired boy, and I couldn't help but notice his slight stutter. "We-we don't have to pretend. We can... we can be friends."

EredetiVállat vontam, így jelezve neki, hogy szívesen.


	3. 2nd: Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say. The boys... talk?   
> TW: self-harm scars, almost-panic-attack, mention of suicide... I guess?

"This is some kind of fucking joke, isn't it?" I snapped, almost seconds after Evan said the sentence. "You want to laugh at me with the others, don't you? Fuck you." With this last sentence, I pointed my middle finger at the nervous blonde, and then I ran out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

I couldn't imagine why I thought Evan would be different. He was exactly the same as the others, he just wanted me to yell, like everyone. I mean, how funny is It that Connor Murphy is a junkie with no friends that nobody cares about? How funny that Connor Murphy is a loser.

"Fuck you!" I kicked nervously in one of the bins, and then, ignoring the indignant cries of one of the teachers, threw myself into the nearest bathroom.

I was so tensed, and I almost collapsed against the wall. I already felt the guilt I felt after all my freak-out. It was like I was split in two: one part of me was angry and frustrated, and doubted what Evan had said, but the other half kept saying that the blond boy was telling the truth, and he really wanted to be my friend.

In moments like this, I just hated myself. I've had enough of having no one to turn to, that everyone's laughing at me and thinking I'm some kind of neurotic junkie who's no good at anything. The saddest part is, I started to believe that it was absolutely true, and that everything would be so much better if I didn't exist.

I glanced down at my wrists, which were getting more and more viscing, and almost attracted my attention. Okay, I couldn't see it because of the long-sleeved sweater and all the band-aids, but my forearms were full of scars. There were silvery, long-healed traces, but there were also fresh ones, which were even red, or even slightly bleeding. No matter how hard I tried to stop cutting myself, I never did. I just couldn't control myself when I felt I had to punish myself. Usually that was when I got into a fight with Zoe, or I put reckless things on her head, and... Now.

I had no idea why I was so upset by the conversation with Evan. I didn't know why I gave him so much thought, why I cared what he said. I've yelled at a lot of my classmates, I've had a lot of problems after being beaten and mocked, but I've never felt compelled to hurt myself. I never locked myself in the bathroom afterwards with dark thoughts, I just broke a cupboard or two or kicked the trash can, but...

Evan Hansen was different. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I definitely felt that the blond boy was different, not like the others. He seemed kinder, more understanding - even with his obvious nervousness - than most assholes. I had a strange feeling about him, and all I could think about was, what if he meant it? What if he really wanted to be my friend, and I ran away from him, the only person who tried to help me?

*******

I fell down on my bed tiredly, ignoring Cynthia's voice as she invited me to dinner. I was less incre than usual to charm my family and listen to Larry's comments that I'm set up and have my hair cut because I look like a girl. I just needed silence and privacy.

However, calm in my case is a different concept than in other people. Despite my ADHD medication, I found it hard to lie still, somewhere I was always drumming, either on the edge of my bed or on my own thigh. In general, however, I did not mind this kind of restlessness, because at least in this case I was not concerned with my wrists and desire to cut, but something else was driving my thoughts.

"Connor, dinner." This time, Larry's voice was banging at the bottom of the stairs, but I didn't care. I pretended I didn't hear anything at all.

"Connor, please." Cynthia voice joined.

"Leave me alone!" I jumped up and walked to the door to slam it, like I used to, and then I angrily pöked into the wall. Obviously, I didn't have a door because Larry took it down after I tried to end my life a few months ago.

After not being interested in any answers from the ground floor, I calmed down on some level and sat back on my bed, pulling my laptop to myself. After quickly opening Facebook, I entered the search engine, and then I got the name Evan Hansen. Almost immediately, I found the blond-haired boy I was looking for, so I marked him as a friend, and then I wrote him a message.

**Connor Murphy:**

_I'm sorry about today. I think I overreacted a little. We can be friends if you want..._

After I sent the text, I regretted it almost immediately, but there was no turning back. I quickly pounced on the lid of my laptop, then fished my cigarette box out from under the bed, and I wasn't even tired of opening the window, I just lit a cigarette. The smoke filled my lungs, which made me feel fantastic, soothed me.

"Are you seriously smoking weed in there?" I looked up and met Larry's angry blue eyes. I shrugged my shoulders and turned back towards the window, pretending I had never heard my father's call to account. "Connor Michael Murphy. I'm talking to you!" Hsnapped and entered my room.

"I noticed," I muttered, blowing out the smoke. "I just don't really care," I added, shrugking my shoulders. "Why don't you go to your office and make a phone call?" I threw it at Larry, and then I got off the bed, grabbed my phone, got out, and then I went out on the street.

It was getting dark outside, but I didn't care about it at all, or the freezing winds and the smell of rain. I just walked away, didn't even pay attention to where I was going, just going where my feet were taking me, smoking one cigarette after another.

*******

Soon I was on the outskirts of town, near some kind of playground. The sky was getting more and more cloudy, but I still didn't care, I just sat on a nearby bench and pulled out my phone to see if Evan had answered my message. He was my only hope. I was ready to throw everything away. The meds and the blade were under my bed, waiting for me to get home.

**Evan Hansen:**

_It's okay, I was probably weird, too. Sorry._

_We can be friends if you like. I mean, that's what you wrote, so I guess you'd want it, too._

_I'm sorry, I didn't..._

_So, we can be friends. :)_

I laughed. Somehow, even his messages seemed nervous and hassling, like his speech. I had no idea why I didn't find it annoying like the other kids at school, but... It was different somehow. I don't know why or how, but he wasn't like any of my other classmates. Evan Hansen was eccentric- like me.

"Hey, Chubby. Come back." I was startled to find myself on the leash of a rushing, slightly overweight dog.

"I'm... I'm sorry... I..." I heard a boy's voice.

"It's all right," I shrugged, and then stretched the leash to the boy, who looked at me shyly, so I recognized him. Evan Hansen stood in front of me in khaki-colored pants, a blue T-shirt with tousled blonde hair.

"Connor, what's going on?" he asked, after his eyes meet mine. I smiled shyly and somewhat hesitantly, but I didn't say anything. "I'm going to... So..."

"Do you live nearby?" I wanted to break the awkward moment, but of course my attempt only made it even more embarrassing.

"Jut.. just a few streets away," muttered Evan. "My therapist suggested I take a job, and... So, I'm helping with a dog for an old lady, and... I'm sorry, I'm sure you don't care about my life, it's-it's kind of boring."

"Nah, it's all right," I sat back on the bench, looking at the dog, who approached me with distrust, sniffing my feet cautiously. "I thought it was your dog," I said when Evan took a seat at the other end of the bench, looking shyly at me.

No, I don't have any animals... And actually, I'm more of a... a cat person" He answered me with a light stutter. It wasn't as bad as when he gave a lecture in class a few years ago, but it was definitely noticeable and cute.

"I hate cats," I grumbled in disgust. 'I'm allergic to them, I don't think I could stay with them for two minutes,' I added, reacting to Evan's questioning look.

"I mean, you're allergic, like you hate it, or..."

The rest of his question was not heard, because my thoughts wandered as I scratched the ears of the fat dog. Chubby, I think that's his name, almost settled in the palm of my hand, weighed almost all his weight on me, and panted, sometimes with satisfaction.

'What?" I got my head around Evan, realizing that he was still talking to me and looking at me waiting.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that... I-I don't have to tell you, if you-you-don't-you-want it, I-I just" the blond boy blinked at me in his eyes in a panic as he tried to calm himself down by breathing deeply.

"Hey, it's okay, I just wasn't listening...I get distracted easily, sometimes I just wander off," I said, and I could feel a blush on my face. I've never told anyone what my problem is openly, just my family, but they didn't really care either. Or if they did, they didn't show it. "So, what are you saying?"

"N-nothing," said Evan, with his hands in the air, causing him to shake.

I didn't push it, I turned my attention back to the dog, who was now almost lying on my lap, leaving cheesy stains on my black jeans. And then, after a few minutes, I noticed something was constantly dripping on my hair, and then on my shoulder. As soon as I looked up, the raindrops fell into my eyes. Evan and I jumped up almost at the same time.

"I think I'll see you tomorrow," I smiled vaguely, before Evan nodded cheerfully, waved, and headed for the nearby apartment buildings. I looked into it for a few seconds, and then, when the sky was almost broken, I turned around and headed home.

*******

I fell through the front door. It was already dark outside, and I thought it was likely that everyone was asleep in the apartment, but at the moment I didn't care. After the sky fell outside and I was on my way home, I realized that I was wandering much further than I had originally planned, so I walked home for about an hour, causing me to get soaked. My clothes and my hair were dripping, and almost every part of me had goose bumps.

I just dared to hope that Evan got home faster and luckier... But why the fuck I care about him?

"Where were you?"

I trembled to the sound, and blinked and blinked toward the kitchen, where I saw Zoe. She was already in his pajamas, and she was taking a mug of cocoa out of the microwave when I stepped next to him.

"I had to clear my head," I replied gently, sat on the wide kitchen counter. "Are you going to make me one of those?" I poked my head towards the mug, and my sister nodded in shock, and began to make my drink, with the difference that she made mine with boiling water, not milk. "Thank you," I gratefully took the mug, and then drank it into the pleasant, warm drink.

'You're going to get sick,' said Zoe, as she watched on in my water-dripping attire. I shrugged my shoulders, indicating that I didn't give a damn, and then I finished the cocoa and stepped to the sink to clean the glass.

The tension between us was almost palpable. I don't know the last time we spoke to each other in a normal tone without a fight. We used to have a very good relationship, like most siblingsdo, and then everything changed. We've grown up - or at least we've started. I was having more and more problems, and my parents were just letting me down, and because of that, I didn't get any normal help for my mental health issues. I got angrier, I exploded at almost the slightest comment, and unfortunately I didn't spare my sister. I used to yell at her, threaten to kill her- of course, I never meant it. I never physically or mentally wanted to, but sometimes I couldn't control myself. I usually cut my wrists after cases like this, punishing myself.

"Take a shower," said Zoe, taking the mug out of my hand, taking over the dishes. "I'll pack up. No one wants you getting sick."

"Thank you," I muttered, barely audible, and my sister froze, and smiled faintly. For a while I thought she wouldn't answer, but when I reached the stairs, my ears were also struck by her soft voice.

"You're welcome."

*******

Thanks to my fatigue, I took a shower in almost seconds, and then I just stood in the bathroom, towel around my waist, looking at my wrists. I missed the familiar pain, my hands were itchy to hurt myself. I was reaching for my razor, and I was almost pressing it against my forearm when someone knocked softly on the door.

I quickly slammed the blade into the drawer, and then I opened the door. On the other side was Zoe, holding my pajamas, which she immediately reached out to me.

"Mom and Dad asked you not to lock yourself in," she said quietly, gazing at my arms and scars, which were more visible in the white light than usual.

"I don't care," I shook my head, and then I walked into the shower, and in the curtains, I snuggled up in my pants and a worn T-shirt. After that, I headed to my room. My sister followed me.

"But I care" whispered Zoe, now with tears in her eyes. My throat got stuck looking at her face. I knew it was hard for her because of me, and I knew she'd had a lot of nightmares over the last two months. I'm not saying I blamed her, because she was the one who found me the day I tried to kill myself, I might add, not for the first time.

"Good night, Zo," I said to her. She sighed reilitatingly, then waited for me to get under the covers.

"Good night, Connor," she said softly, and I could hear in her voice that he was trying to swallow back his tears. That's exactly what I did.

I waited for her silhouette to disappear, and then I heard her room's door open and close. After that, it was quiet. I took a tremble breath, then tempted my face into one of my pillows, and then I began to weep too - softly, so that no one could hear me, so that no one would come in, and ask me what was wrong with me.

That's how I finally went to sleep, crying to myself, while Zoe's repressed sobbing could be heard from the other side of the wall in the other room.

This whole thing is screwed up.


End file.
